


Shall We Dance

by Eoraptor



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Community: Kim Possible Slash Haven, Gen, Oneshot, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 23:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eoraptor/pseuds/Eoraptor
Summary: Cliche Phrasing





	Shall We Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Kim Possible and relate characters ©2002-2007 Walt Disney Animation. This fan work is not intended for profit.

A dance?  
  
That was what the reporters had taken to calling it when Kim and Shego battled for the fate of whatever they were fighting over. Three months ago Kim had been talking to a cadre of reporters about the new building, Mausolea. It was a crypt of titanic proportions where much of the destroyed Lorwardian technology was to be stored since the events of the invasion. Kim herself had helped in some of the designs, ensuring that it was virtually impenetrable by unauthorized persons.   
  
Which of course meant that such an unauthorized person decided to try their luck the day it opened.   
  
Shego.  
  
Kim had done her best to get the two of them away from civilians; but a few of the reporters had been what her Nana might call “intrepid.” Kim preferred to think of them in far less charitable terms. “Pesky” was probably the most polite term. They kept getting way too close as the hero and villainess fought, and unlike Kim, Shego had no concerns for the well-being of civilians and bystanders.  
  
Well, Kim had managed to best the villainess that day, getting her close to one of the still-active Lorwardian scuttler tanks and tripping its sensors into grabbing the woman. Shego had already exhausted some of her reserves of energy punching through the five foot thick walls of the Mausolea, and no longer had the raw power to slice through its legs the way she had on the day of the invasion, leaving her merely squirming and indignant.  
  
The next day, not one, but two of the reporters who had been there described what she and Shego did as “a dangerous dance.”   
  
A dance? Well, if it was a dance, it was not like any other dance Kim knew.   
  
She muttered to herself as she ducked underneath of a flaming tiger-paw which should, by all rights, have taken her face off down to the bone.   
  
This was no fox trot, no tango… Not a waltz or a ballet; not even a dougie or a dab or whatever her friends had time to do while she was busy saving the world instead.  
  
She gave a forward kick, which was caught, as she planned. She pivoted around Shego’s arm, spinning upwards and thrusting her other leg around to take off the criminal’s head.   
  
Yes, they both had practiced for years; learned hundreds, maybe thousands of moves. They each knew dozens of ways to combine those moves in complex rhythmic arrangements, but aside from a bit of Caporia, nothing they did was meant to be set to music.   
  
The combinations of slick moves were not meant to compliment, but to wound. Not to enthrall, but to injure. Each young woman was using everything she knew to try to make contact, and not in a remotely fun manner.   
  
Shego tilted her head to one side, just enough to duck the brain-spattering kick, but in doing so, had to let go of the redhead lest her momentum take them both to the ground.   
  
Kim converted her spin kick into a pinwheel, landing a few feet away and striking her fists to her side, prepared to be attacked again. Shego obliged her, throwing a nearly identical thrust kick at her midsection.   
  
Kim was not so stupid as to grab it the way Shego had. Instead she hip-bumped at it, and then continued, cartwheeling upwards, catching Shego’s knee under hers and trying to upset the taller woman.   
  
And they continued the morbid dance. Each woman was spinning and sweeping around the other, not trying to fit any rhythm, but quite the opposite; trying to break the rhythm. And when that synchronicity of spins and dodges was broken, a blow would land on one or the other. Sometimes they were glancing, and sometimes they were bone jarring.  
  
No, this was no dance.   
  
Though, she supposed… if it was anything resembling a dance, Shego was the best ‘partner’ she had ever had. Not even Duff Killigan or Monkey Fist lasted as long with her. And henchmen? Feh, she could “waltz” through a dozen of them at a time these days.   
  
The redhead pirouetted violently around another of Shego’s wide claw swipes. Her speed was enough to make herself slightly nauseous, but it was also faster than her counterpart could handle, and Kim slammed her elbow into the back of the deadly woman’s head solidly.   
  
Shego went sprawling to the floor, her hands winking out. Kim quickly landed on her back, pinning her arms at her sides with her knees. A deft movement of hands and Shego’s arms were fixed behind her back with a set of specially made handcuffs.   
  
Kim back-flipped up and off of the meteor woman as Shego instantly tried to flare her hands and get free, and succeeded in only burning her own butt, cursing.   
  
No, this was not a dance.   
  
No matter how it looked to anyone watching the two of them from the outside; it was a fight. And this time at least, Kim had won.   
  
Now if only she could actually find the time to learn to dance...


End file.
